My Renaissance
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: Driving home from eastern Washington late one night, Lexie Grey's car skids off the road. Miles from home, the EMTs that find her are all perfect strangers, yet there's one who looks incredibly familiar. Or maybe it's just her imagination. M/L


Title: _My Renaissance_

Rating: K

Summary: Driving home from eastern Washington late one night, Lexie Grey's car skids off the road. Miles from home, the EMTs that find her are all perfect strangers, yet there's one who looks incredibly familiar. Or maybe it's just her imagination.

This is, again, one way out of hundreds that could put Mark and Lexie back where they belong: With each other.

Inspiration: _Renaissance _by Mat Kearney

Author's Note: As always, the lyrics are important to the story. Please read them. :)

_. . ._

_**It happened fast, in a flash, just this evening**_

_**As I hit the gas, horn blasts, brakes are screaming as the car crashed**_

_**Broken glass broke my dreaming**_

_**I hit the dash, so fast; my ears are ringing**_

_. . ._

"Incoming!"

"What do we have?"

"Car crash," the EMT calls. He brushes his curly hair out of his eyes with a free hand as he pushes the gurney forwards. "Young woman, looks to be late twenties."

"The other driver?"

The EMT shakes his head. "There was no other driver. Her car skidded off the road. A passing driver called it in, I don't know how long after."

The elder doctor curses, damning the ice and sleet dominating these winter months. "You look in her wallet, Jerry, find her ID?" He asks as they move her to an ER bed. As various doctors begin swarming around the patient, the elder doctor can barely hear the EMT's reply over the din. The young man almost has to shout to be heard. "Grey," Jerry calls. "Lexie Grey. MD," he adds. "She's a doctor, Paulsen."

Dr. Walter Paulsen nods before turning back to his patient. Just like with almost all of the men and women that come through the ER, he has no idea who this young woman is. But it always helps to know the name of the person whose life you're fighting to save. It makes things personal; it makes you try harder.

"Alright, Lexie," he calls, bending over the patient and inspecting her head quickly for injuries. He glances to his left, watching another doctor insert a chest tube as he hears another call for the closest orthopedic surgeon. His eyes scan her body, taking in the multitude of injuries. He hopes she can't see through his lie in her possibly concussed state. "We're going to get you fixed up in no time, Dr. Grey."

. . .

_**The breath in my chest has slipped and I'm sinking,**_

_**Blinking through diamond spider webs of cracked glass**_

_**Trying to remember all the words you've said in the past.**_

. . .

_She counts the injuries, one by one, hoping to finish before she inevitably passes out. Two right ribs, cracked. Left arm, broken. Left leg… Ankle, maybe. Fractured. She blinks, trying to angle her head away from the shattered glass to her left. She tries to remember why she's going to pass out. It was all so clear a moment ago…_

_ Her leg twitches involuntarily, and if she could scream, she would. The pain shoots up her entire limb, rising past her waist and somehow inflaming her battered chest and ribs. She licks her lips and tries to steady her breathing. Pass out, she thinks. Why am I going to pass out?_

_ Her eyes close when her tongue tastes it._

_ Blood loss, that's it. That's how I'll pass out. That's how I'll die. Blood loss._

_ Her ears prick faintly a moment later as a screeching wind descends around her. If she could twist away from the sound she would, but it's somehow enveloped her. And she can't move, anyway, even if she wanted to. Her eyes blink rapidly when the voices arrive. The bounce from side to side, their dull yet loud tones somehow amplifying the never ceasing wind._

_ She frowns when she hears boots scrape across the snow. A shout goes up a few feet to her right… Or is it left? And why can't she feel the wind? The screaming is there, constant and unrelenting, but there's no accompanying gust of chilled air._

_ She feels her eyes open slowly when metal crunches around her. Every few seconds, her vision flashes red, then blue. Red, blue, red, blue. Screech, screech, screech._

_ "Miss? Are you alive in there? Can you hear me?"_

_ She'd laugh if she had the breath. It isn't the wind, it's an ambulance, silly, she thinks. How many times do you see these things on a daily basis? She hears the man call out to his companions, but none of their voices resonate with her. You aren't in Seattle, she reminds herself. There's no reason you should recognize anyone here._

_ But then his head pokes in. He's familiar. She feels a weak smile spread across her face. He's so, _so_ familiar. She ignores the way smiling at the sight of him opens up all the cuts on her lips and cheeks. Instead, she stares up into his familiar blue eyes._

_ "You're going to be okay, got it? I'll get you out of here."_

_ She closes her eyes. Of course, she wants to say. I know you'll get me out. I knew you'd come for me. You're always finding ways to save me._

_ He's pulling her out now. She's happy for a moment—she thought she'd be stuck in that crushed and cracked tin can forever. She thought she'd die there. She's almost smiling—but then her foot snags on something on the way out, and she wishes she _had _died in the crushed and cracked tin can that used to be her car. The pain is worse than before—so much worse—and it shoots the whole way up her body. It paralyzes her brain function for a moment and she can't even breathe._

_ But then she comes back._

_ "I'm sorry," he's whispering above her. She hears other pairs of feet scrambling around. She tries to remember what happens in situations like these, but she can't. Is he going to carry me? She thinks. The whole way to the hospital? No, they have car for that, don't they? And blankets to put me on? Or maybe something flat? I need something flat. My leg is…_

_ She wants to cry out when she feels it being twisted again, but she can't. Two people are bent over her leg, wrapping something around it. At the lack of an audible response, she feels tears leak out of her eyes._

_ Again, the man's beside her. And again, he's familiar._

_ "It's okay," he's whispering. He isn't looking at her, he's doing something to her ear or her neck or… She twists away from his prodding hands. It feels like he's creating bruises wherever his hands touch her scalp. "Just let me help you and it'll be okay. We'll get you to the hospital."_

_ Hospital… I work at one of those, don't I? She looks up at the man, waiting for confirmation, but he doesn't seem to have heard her. She stares at him hard, watching his features shift before her very eyes. Am I going to go insane before I die? She wonders, watching his eyes change color._

_His familiar clear-blue eyes morph into a forest green. His hair turns into a deep, dark brown. It grows down past his ears, curly and shaggy. He's clean-shaven, yet with a bit of stubble gracing his cheeks and chin, as if he didn't have time to use a razor this morning. The set of his mouth is determined, focused—there's no smile, happiness, or awareness. No familiarity like before._

_But when she blinks again, and his worried and determined green eyes have faded back to that familiar blue. He's smiling at her, and she watches as the gesture lights up his pupils, softening them._

_ Hey, she wants to whisper, recognizing that look she knows so well. I know you, she wants to joke. I've seen you around before._

_ But she can't find her voice, so she can't say any of that. There's so much she wants—_needs_—to tell him. I'm dying, she realizes. There are things he needs to know. There are things I've never told him. There's so much, so much I…_

_But all she can manage is one word._

_ "Mark," she whispers. At the sound of her voice, his head turns towards her. But the face she'd been expecting to see is gone. It's faded away, and as the stranger's visage replaces his, she realizes just how powerless she's become. She can't keep him here with her anymore than she's been able to keep him anywhere. She powerless to stop him from leaving, just as she's always been. Where are you going? She wants to ask. Come back._

_ Her eyes flutter closed. Stay… Stay with me, please._

_ Please._

. . .

_**Through the ash, siren screams, and red beams—**_

_**I hear you sing, softly, to me:**_

_**I can be the wall when you fall down,**_

_**Find me on the rocks when you break down**_

. . .

"Doc."  
>The elder doctor, Walter Paulsen, glances up at the familiar voice. He sees Jerry Price, one of the regular EMTs, staring at him intently with those startling bright green eyes of his. "Yes?"<p>

"The girl we brought in, did you contact her next of kin?"

"I was just about to," he replies, holding up her file.

"Can I ask who it is?" Jerry inquires nervously. He meets the older doctor's serious stare.

"We aren't allowed to share this type of—"

"Just—" The EMT takes a breath. "Look, will you just tell me if it's a man or a woman?"

Paulsen narrows his eyes at the young man for a moment before glancing at his patient's chart. "Woman," he replies after a moment. "A sister, name's Meredith."

"Is there someone named Mark listed there, too?" Jerry asks. "Maybe a husband or a boyfriend? Fiancé?"

The doctor narrows his eyes, checking the chart again before shaking his head. He stares at the EMT, confused. "No, there's no one by the name of Mark listed… Why?"

"Well, she was…asking for him," Jerry replies uneasily. He glances around for a second before leaning closer. "When we arrived on the scene, she muttered the name when I picked her up. Whenever someone would bend over to make sure she was still breathing or lean forward to check her vitals, she'd whisper that name. I think he's…"

"Yes, he's obviously someone very important to her," Paulsen cuts in. He deliberates for a moment. "Right," he nods. "Well, when I contact the next of kin, and if she shows up, I'll ask her if she knows about this Mark."

. . .

"So she's going to be okay?" Meredith asks worriedly. "You said she had—"

"A broken arm, a fractured ankle, two cracked ribs—"

"What about her head?" Meredith cuts in, crossing her arms tightly. "Have you had a neurologist check her out?"

"Dr. Grey, I assure you—"

"If she has cerebral damage, I swear—"

"Meredith," he interrupts. She starts at the use of her first name, but Paulsen brushes her reaction to this side. "I assure you, if she follows the our orthopedic surgeon's orders, she will make a full recovery. She just needs to make sure to take it _very _easy for the next few weeks, and to follow her physical therapy to the letter when it comes time for that."

Meredith lets out the breath she'd been holding. "So she'll be okay." Her eyes close in relief. "Thank god," she murmurs.

Paulsen nods, studying her face for a moment before deciding how best to broach the subject. Eventually, he just dives right in. "Now, there's something else. This matter is a bit more personal…" Meredith's eyes fly open.

"What is it?" She panics. "What's wrong now?"  
>"Nothing's wrong," Paulsen assures her quickly. "It's just…" He sighs, wanting to drop the subject, but remembering Jerry's insistence, he pushes ahead anyway. "Do you know anyone by the name of Mark?"<p>

He watches as her face opens in recognition. _Bingo, _he thinks.

"Now, he wasn't listed on her emergency contact list—"

"I should hope not," Meredith cuts in before she can stop herself.

Paulsen blanks for a moment, staring at her in shock. "What?"

The blonde woman shakes her head. "I'm sorry," she mutters, waving a hand. "It was a reflex. Lexie and Mark, they haven't had the best history. But it's in the past. Anyway," she continues, "how did you know his name?"

"Well, the thing is… She's been asking for him."

Meredith's eyes grow wide. She looks around the older doctor's shoulder to see her sister, still sleeping, wrapped up in her hospital bed. "She regained consciousness? Why didn't you tell me?"

The doctor grimaces. "It was only briefly," he replies. "But each time she came back to us, she asked for that man—Mark—by name. One of our EMTs said she spoke the name when they pulled her from the wreck, and again whenever someone would approach her to check on her status." He watches a calculating look come over the sister's face. "I'm only asking because I think she would really benefit, the next time she woke up, to see this Mark waiting for her."

Meredith sighs softly, lifting a hand to rub the side of her face. "That might be a little difficult…"

"If it's a transportation issue, I'm sure—"

"It isn't that," Meredith replies. "It's just…" _No use hiding it, _she thinks. "They broke up—my sister and Mark—months ago."

Paulsen frowns; his eyebrows draw down in confusion. "He isn't her husband, not even… Not even her boyfriend?"

Meredith shakes her head sadly. "They've had a rough time of it, and I thought… Well, I thought, recently, she'd started to get over him…" She sighs, meeting the doctor's eyes. "Obviously not."

"I see," Paulsen murmurs. "Well, if you think it would only be worse to have him here, by all means, you're allowed to call the shots."

Meredith nods, her head dipping sorrowfully. "It would help for a minute or two, I know. But when the reality sinks in…" She sighs sadly. "Him being here would help her in the short run, sure… But when it comes time for her to look at the rest of her life, remembering him is only going to cause her pain."

The doctor nods, stepping back to take his leave. "I understand. Thank you, Dr. Grey."

. . .

"Mark," Lexie whispers as her eyes flicker open a few hours later. Her voice is barely audible, but that doesn't stop Meredith from internally flinching at the name. _Oh, Lexie… _Yet she forces a smile anyway. It turns genuine soon, though, as her sister's eyes search the room and settle on hers. Meredith clutches the other girl's hand tightly. "Hey, Lex. I'm so happy you're awake."

"Is Mark here?" She whispers again.

Meredith shakes her head, chewing her lip. "No. I'm sorry, Lex."

"Oh."

"They…" Meredith sighs. _Better just to get it all out of the way now._ "They said you were asking for him."

"What?"

"When the EMTs picked you up," Meredith explains, not bother to sugarcoat it. "They said you were saying Mark's name, over and over again."

"I…" Lexie looks down, obviously embarrassed. She studies the patterns embroidered on the blankets wrapped around her while her sister speaks.

Meredith sighs. "And now, right here, you said his name again. You're asking for him. Again. After you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with him."

"I…" Lexie bites her lip, trying to stave off the tears. "I just want to see him," she whispers, trying not to let her heartbroken voice crack anymore than it already has. "He isn't here and I only… I…"

"I know, Lexie," Meredith murmurs gently, squeezing her hand. "I know." She watches as her sister turns away, swiping quickly at her tears. She looks discretely away so Lexie doesn't feel any more self-conscious. "Look," Meredith murmurs after her sister has composed herself, "you're getting transferred home to Seattle Grace this afternoon. Once you get settled in and have a rest… I can page him, if you like."

"Oh, Mer," Lexie whispers. She bites her lip, looking over at her sister. Her watery brown eyes are filled with endless gratitude. "Meredith, thank you. Thank you so much."

"I just want you to get better," Meredith replies. "If this is what it takes, so be it."

Lexie nods, gathering her emotions. "Right," she replies after a moment. _This is about you getting better, _she reminds herself,_ not you and him. It will never work, remember that. You've tried, and it hasn't worked out. _"I know. Thank you."

. . .

_**This is my broken heart, this my bleeding start**_

_**This is the way I've come to know you.**_

_**This is my winding road, this is my way back home**_

_**This is the narrow door you know that I will walk through.**_

. . .

Mark Sloan reaches out, his hand grappling blindly for an anchor to steady himself. He feels himself almost pass out at the sight of her, but luckily his fingers find the doorway to cling to before that happens. He can't speak; he can barely breathe.

Lexie manages a wan smile when she sees him. "I'm not dead yet," she jokes weakly.

He doesn't smile, and Lexie begins to feel uncomfortable beneath his unblinking stare as the silent minutes tick by. "What happened to you?" He whispers, having finally found his voice.

Lexie swallows, unaccustomed to this strangled, choked version of his usual speech. "My car," she replies in a shaky voice. "It skidded off the road."

"Are you—" His voice breaks off, and Lexie's eyes stray from his face, watching in confusion as his left hand white-knuckles the doorway.

"I'm going to be okay," she tells him quietly. Her eyes drift back to his face.

"Why wasn't I told?" He asks. His eyes are staring right at her, and Lexie finds she doesn't have an answer.

"I don't know," she whispers. She swallows, curling her free hand into a tight fist. "But you're…" She takes a shallow breath. "You're here."

He stares back at her; his mind absorbs her words slowly and carefully. _You're here._ Her features quake for a minute beneath his gaze, and in a second, just as the tears start to fall, he's crossed the room and is bent over her bed.

"It'll be okay," he whispers quietly. His hand finds hers, prying her fingers from their iron fist. He looks into her eyes, feeling like he might cry as well. But he holds back. He can't break down. He has no right to. Yet still, he bends down. He pulls a chair to her beside with a quick flick of his foot. He settles in beside her, takes her hand, strokes her hair.

And she cries and cries.

And just like before, his name is the only word that leaves her lips.

. . .

_**I hear you sing, softly, to me:**_

_**I can be the wall when you fall down**_

_**Find me on the rocks when you break down**_

_**. . .**_

"I was so scared," she manages when the sobs start to subside. Neither knows how much time has passed—it could've been hours, days… "I…" Her mouth twists in sorrow as his hands cradle her face as gently as possible. "I… I thought I'd never see you again." Her tears cascade over his shaking hands.

"Lexie," he whispers.

She shakes her head, ignoring whatever he was going to say next. "I know," she whispers. "I know I don't have any right to but I…" A fresh waves of tears fall from her eyes. "I wanted to see you. I was lying there, bleeding and broken, trapped, dying…" Her face crumples. "All I wanted was you," she sobs desperately.

"Lexie…"

"And I—I know you have a girlfriend." She blinks, looking down. "I get that," she whispers. "But you should know…" She reaches up, her hands wrapping around his wrists as his continue to hold her face. "This is the second time I've almost died." She swallows, watching as he holds his breath. "And this is the second time…" She takes a ragged breath. "This is the second time that you were the only thing on my mind."

Mark closes his eyes, and Lexie watches as a few hidden tears escape. They leave wet trails down either side of his face.

"I had a gun pointed at me, I was crushed under a car…" She shakes her head. "And I was with someone else then and you're with someone else now…" She sniffs, attempting to hold back the tears. "But it didn't matter. I still thought of you. I still think of you."

Mark stares at her in silence. He shakes his head after a minute, and Lexie feels her entire body go rigid. "I'm sorry," he whispers. Her hands go numb, falling from his. His fingers caress her skin gently before they pull away. She waits, with wide and desperate eyes, for him to get to his feet and walk away.

But he doesn't walk away.

He moves forward, spreading his arms, and envelops her in a careful, gentle hug. She hugs back, her arms crossing over his broad back. She presses her head into the space where his shoulder meets his neck, ignoring her searing headache. She's ruining his shirt with her tears, she knows, yet still she presses herself against him. Still, her arms pull him closer. She feels her body deflate with relief when he returns in kind. He shifts nearer when her hands reach for him. His arms wrap more securely around her battered body, trying to keep her safe.

"It'll be okay," he whispers into her hair. "I promise it will all be okay."

. . .

Across the hall, Julia Canner watches, waiting for them to pull apart. As the seconds turn into minutes, though, and nothing changes, she averts her gaze. When she watches their arms tighten around each other—desperate on her part, loving on his—she walks away. She takes her leave discreetly, hoping no one noticed her and wishing she hadn't noticed them.

. . .

_**For years, I've built this two-faced tower for hours on a lease**_

_**You gave me one yellow flower that said rest in peace**_

_**In pieces I've broken open to think too much or just enough**_

_**Alone to trust, amidst the rubble and the dust.**_

. . .

It's two hours later that she finally sees him again. She hadn't gone back past the Grey girl's ICU since she walked away earlier that morning, but something tells her he never left. That, and the morose way he's picking at his food across the table from her. And the fact that he hasn't spoken one word to her all day. After minutes of silence, she sighs tiredly and breaks it gently. "It's her, isn't it?"

"What?" Mark asks, looking up. His eyes find hers slowly; he must've been a million miles away. She frowns, remembering the way he'd held the girl in the hospital bed. Or just a few hundred feet. "What's her?"

"The girl everyone's up in arms about," Julia replies quietly. She looks over to him again, noticing that he's looking down again. He's barely met her eye once in the last half hour. "Your ex. Lexie." She watches as his body tenses at the names; it only serves to cement her suspicions.

"She was in a car crash," Mark admits after a second.

"I know."

Mark takes a breath. "So what about her?"

"You want to be with her. So go."

"I visited her already," Mark replies. "She'll—be okay."

Julia takes a deep breath, reaching out and putting a hand his arm. His eyes finally meet hers. "I didn't mean go visit her," Julia replies. "I know you already did that." She watches Mark's gaze tighten, and she closes her eyes for a moment. "I meant…" She takes a breath, opening her eyes to look him full on in the face. "Look, we both knew this would happen eventually."

"What would happen eventually?"

"You would rush to her side the second—"

"She was in a car crash," Mark replies gruffly.

"I'm not saying you _shouldn't_ have gone to her side," Julia replies calmly. "She's your ex-girlfriend, I understand that when you hear she's hurt you want to make sure she's okay. I'm just saying…" She shrugs briefly. "Considering how long you two have been broken up, I don't really think it's expected of you, the ex, to spend three consecutive hours in her room. Holding her," she adds, watching as his eyes close guiltily.

He takes a slow breath. "Look, Julia…"

"I'm not blaming you," she replies softly. "You can't help it, I get that." She watches as his eyes meet hers. "And just so you know," Julia repeats, holding his gaze, "when I said go be with her, I didn't mean go visit. I meant…" She swallows. "It's clear she still has feelings for you, and, despite what you might want to admit, you still have feelings for her, too. Strong ones."

"Julia…"

"You're in love with her, Mark," Julia tells him quietly. She watches his eyes widen as his body stiffens. "I didn't see it before," she continues, "or maybe I did and chose to ignore it—but now it's all too clear and it can't be ignored anymore. And this isn't just because she almost died," Julia adds when it looks like he's about to protest. "This is because this was the first time you could publicly display worry for her, fear for her… And love for her." She gives him a small smile. "And trust me, those came out in full force when you walked into that ICU."

"I… I didn't know you saw…"

"Look, Mark, it's not that big of a deal. We tried, and it didn't work out." She gives him a friendly smile. "Come on, now, we both know this wouldn't amount to much. I could tell you were trying to get over someone, but you hid it so easily from me, sometimes I forgot it was there." She sobers, sighing slowly. "But you never forgot. She was always there, in the back of your mind…" She smiles wanly, getting to her feet. "Just be careful with her, okay? She already has a broken body. Don't break her heart, too."

She leaves without another word, and Mark watches her go, mystified. He's still trying to catch up with all she's said as he gets to his feet a few seconds later. He may not have grasped everything she'd said, but he understood enough to know that he's free to go where he's truly needed.

. . .

_**Humbled, it took this much to break down and understand**_

_**Spend my life this far, on castles made of sand**_

_**Tossed in the breakers, in the palm of your hand**_

_**Now I can finally stand**_

_. . ._

"You… broke up?" Lexie whispers.

Mark nods, sitting heavily in the chair by her bedside. "We did."

Lexie takes a swallow of air. She already knows the answer, but she feels the need to ask the question anyway. "Was it… because of me?"

He looks up, staring her right in the eyes. "Yes," he replies honestly. She stares back, waiting for the anger to enter his eyes. It doesn't.

"Why aren't you mad at me?" She asks softly.

Mark sighs. The metal legs of his chair scrape across the linoleum when he moves his chair closer to her bed a moment later. "Because this was something that needed to happen," he replies softly. He reaches out, tentatively taking her hand in his. "I was fooling myself before." His eyes meet hers briefly. "I thought I was over you, I thought I'd moved on…"

"You didn't?" Lexie asks, feeling her stomach clench in anticipation at the otherworldly possibility. She brings her free hand to rest of her roiling abdomen when his piercing blue eyes meet hers.

"No. I didn't."

Lexie stares at him, trying to process all of this. His pleading voice interrupts her thoughts.

"Please…" He takes a shallow breath. "Please, Lex, tell me you haven't moved on. Tell me you want this. Because if you don't—"

"Mark," she cuts in.

"No," he continues. "I need to know. Right now, if this is a mistake—"

"They told me I was asking for you," Lexie interrupts quietly.

Mark stares at her blankly. "What?"

"At the accident site," Lexie elaborates. "The EMTs told me I was asking for someone. The doctors told me I spoke the name every time I came back to consciousness. They spent hours trying to figure out who the Mark was that I was asking for." She smiles sadly. She reaches out, her hand shaking, to touch him. "I thought I was dying and all I wanted was to see you one last time. …So do you still think this is a mistake, Mark?"

"You asked for me?" He whispers in awe. "You… wanted me?"

Lexie's smile spreads a bit wider. "Of course I wanted you," she whispers. "I wanted someone to hold my hand and tell me it would all be okay. I—I wanted someone to make me feel safe even when I had half my limbs broken." He lips quiver. "And that someone is you," she whispers. "That someone has always been you."

"Lex?"

She wipes her eyes quickly, looking over to him after she's managed to compose herself for a brief moment. She watches as he reaches out to delicately take her hand with his. His eyes rise to meet hers, blinking slowly and never leaving her face. "Everything's going to be okay."

Lexie takes a steadying breath. And before she can think, her lips have parted and she's spoken. "I love you, Mark."

They both freeze at the words. Lexie wishes she could bury her face in her hands, but one was in a cast and the other was still encased within his. And before Mark could stop to take stock of their situation, his mouth was already forming a reply, as if he didn't have a choice or free will in the matter.

"I love you, too."

A genuine smile breaks out across Lexie's face as soon as she absorbs his words and realizes they won't be recanted anytime soon. "You do?" Is all she can manage in a hoarse whisper. Mark finds he's smiling back, and he clutches her hand tighter.

"Yes."

"Are…" She takes a breath. "Are you sure?"

Mark gets slowly to his feet. For a few terrifying seconds, Lexie's sure he's about to pry his fingers from hers and walk out the door. He'll leave and never come back. She's lose him again, but it will be worse this time. Now she won't just have emotional pain to nurse.

But then he steps closer.

He's pressed right up against her, and she stares up at him as he towers over her, staring down into her eyes for a few silent moments. When she says his name quietly, he simply closes his eyes. He can feel the pressure of her hand tighten around his. He opens his eyes, bending down low to look into her eyes, face-to-face.

"Am I sure I love you?" He whispers softly. She lies, frozen, half in fear and half in anticipation. He gives her a small smile to help quell her nerves. "Lex," he whispers, moving ever closer, "I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life."

And then his lips meet hers, and their mouths don't part until the machines to the side of her bed begin beeping in protest at her rising heart rate and lack of oxygen reaching her brain. Lexie blushes slightly when he pulls back, yet Mark acts as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He settles back into his seat, a bit closer than before, and continues to hold her hand in his.

They stay like that for the rest of the day, tethered together by a light touch and a deep, emotional bond that's proven itself to be unbreakable over the years. They wait patiently for her to heal, and they prepare, in silence and quiet happiness, for the rest of their life together.

_. . ._

_Renaissance [ren-_uh_-sahns]:_

_**A revival of or renewed interest in something.**_

_**A renewal of life, vigor, interest.**_

_**Rebirth; revival.**_

_**. . .**_

_Author's Note: So I'm not sure if I would classify this as a songfic. I didn't use the song as a prompt; I simply set the story to music. Either way, whatever it is, I hope you enjoyed it._

_Please click the button below and __**review**__! I live off of all the feedback I can get. :)_


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